Nobody Said It Was Easy
by mustbethemusic
Summary: "There's been an accident," Will pants. "It's - it's Quinn." Faberry if you squint.
1. Chapter 1

'WHERE ARE YOU?'

Rachel sets her phone back on the table, turning in exasperation towards Finn, who stands in front of her, hands swinging back and forth and rocking on his heels.

"Rachel," He says. "Our slot, we - five minutes -"

"I'm not starting without Quinn," She takes a shaky breath. "She'll be here," She says to Santana, whose eyebrow is raised. "She's coming."

She glances at the clock again, wringing her hands and sliding them down the front of her white dress. She walks back over to her phone, looking at the message she sent Quinn three minutes ago.

"Rachel!" Finn says, desperation in his voice. "We have to -" He gestures to the door wildly and Rachel turns to Santana, who shrugs slightly with a look that says 'I told you so.'

"I-okay," She breathes out finally, letting a smile cross her face as she looks at Finn. "Okay let's...I'm ready."

Rachel can't help but feel a small bit of betrayal as she steps slowly down the aisle. Quinn said she would be here. She promised she would. She pulled Rachel into a hug and told her that she would be here.

Without Quinn off to the side, walking down the aisle has lost some of its appeal.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

Rachel looks towards the door discreetly, hoping to catch a glimpse of pink and blonde sliding through the door, wearing a sheepish smile and apologizing profusely but...nothing.

"Do you, Finn Hudson, take Rachel Berry as your wife?"

A lopsided smile flits across his face. "I do,"

"And do you, Rachel Berry, take Finn Hudson as your husband?"

"I-I do, yes," Finn's smile drops a fraction.

"Therefore, if any man can show any just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter hold his peace,"

Hiram jumps up, "I-!"

"Guys," Will comes in out of breath, clutching a cell phone in his hand. "There's been an accident," he pants. "It's - it's Quinn."

Rachel freezes, everything around her slowing down into nothing and she feels like she's drowning. The air rushes out of her lungs and before anyone has a chance to react she's on the floor, a heap of body parts and white material.

"Rachel!" Finn darts forward, kneeling in front of her.

"Berry," Santana's clutching at her arm. "Berry, you okay?"

"Hospital," she manages to choke. Her throat feels constricted. "Hospital, Santana. I - Quinn. Quinn."

Santana hauls her to her feet, Brittany coming up on her other side to assist her out to the car.

"Keys," She says to Santana. "I - the keys - we need - "

"Here," She unlocks the door and Brittany comes up behind Rachel, pulling her head to her shoulder and rubbing her back. Rachel doesn't realize she's been crying until she feels her own tears and snot slick her own face and Brittany's shoulder.

Brittany pulls her into the back seat and Santana slides into the driver's side, starting the car and breaking every speed limit there is on their way to the hospital.

**x**

Quinn.

That's the only thing Rachel can think of when she see's the white of the hospital all around her. Quinn, and how Quinn doesn't need to be in a place like this, not now, and how it was her fault that she was her in the first place.

If she had just been a little more patient. If she had waited a little - just a little while longer - she would be a her wedding right now. But the right version of the wedding - the one where Quinn is watching in a pink bridesmaids dress off to the side - not the one where she stutters on her 'I do's.

**x**

Texting and driving.

That's the reason Quinn got into the accident that shattered 6 ribs, almost punctured her lung, and gave her a concussion. Suddenly, the smell of medicine and sick people is too much for Rachel. She's up, out of her seat, and puking in the trashcan, Brittany holding her hair and rubbing circles on her back, trying to soothe away the sickness and the guilt and how downright terrible Rachel feels right now.

Visiting hours have long been over, and though it took quite a bit of begging on Rachel, Santana, and Brittany's part, Russell took care of it by making a generous donation.

She tries to shake her guilt by blaming Finn. If he hadn't been rushing her, she wouldn't have felt the need to text Quinn as frantically as she did. But as much as she tries to admit it, it was her fault - if not more - than it was Finn's.

She wanted (needed) Quinn there too much.

She wants everything too much.

**x**

A doctor walks out, a chart under his arm, at four-nineteen in the morning.

"How is she?" All three of the girls ask at the same time.

"She's...alive," he says. "She needed minor surgery for her ribs, and the swelling in her brain has gone down, but..."

Rachel waits with baited breath, her heart hammering in her throat.

"I - she's paralyzed from the waist down," He flips through the chart.

"Is - is it...permanent?" Rachel asks.

"We're...not sure." He gives her a small, sad smile and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and they sag. "You can go see her now, if you want."

Rachel sprints to the room number the doctor gives her and she slams to a stop in the doorway, looking at Quinn lying helpless in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around her head and the sheets tucked neatly under her armpits.

She has to clap a hand to her mouth to muffle the pain-filled squeak that squeezes its way out of her throat. Tears spill over her out of her eyes and down her face, getting caught in the gaps of her hand that's still pressed to her mouth.

Brittany's hand is on her lower back and is guiding her shaking body into the room and into a chair near her bed seconds later. Santana follows and makes a bee-line to the other side of the bed, immediately gripping the hand that's resting on top of the sheets.

Santana takes a shaky breath, and Rachel watches as she squeezes Quinn's hand, trying to ignore the IV that's sticking out of it.

"Jesus Q," Is all Santana manages before she breaks down just like Rachel, shoulders shaking and salty tears dripping everywhere; down he chin, onto her shirt and the scratchy hospital sheets.

Then all three of them are crying; Rachel because Quinn, Santana, because of Quinn, and Brittany because Quinn and because she's never seen Santana actually, truly cry. Not like this.

**x**

The first thing Quinn says isn't as dramatic as she expected, but Rachel could honestly care less because, Jesus, Quinn is awake.

"Water," Quinn's voice is scratchy and low but its pitch-perfect to Rachel. She's been waiting to hear that voice for the past two days.

"Rachel?" Quinn says, her eyes sliding shut again once she's downed two and a half styrofoam cups of water.

"Mmm?" Rachel brushes her fingers over the back of Quinn's hand. "I'm here, Quinn." A lump forms in her throat and she chokes back tears unsuccessfully. "Right here."

She's in the middle of re-reading last weeks US Weekly when she hears "Rachel?"

She looks up, and Quinn shifts as much as she can without hurting herself before she clears her throat. "Did I - was the wedding...how was it?"

"There was no wedding, Quinn,"

"Why? Because of me?"

She's far from blaming her, but Quinn asked, so Rachel gives her a straight answer, "Yes,"

A long pause, and then. "I'm sorry,"

Rachel's eyes snap to her sharply. "Don't - you have nothing to apologize for,"

"I do," Quinn prods at the IV sticking out of her hand. "I kind of ruined your wedding, didn't I?" A dry laugh escapes her and she winces.

"No - my main concern is not 'the-wedding-that-could-have-been', Quinn. It's you. Making sure you get better. Making sure you're okay."

Something flits across Quinn's face, but before Rachel can figure what, the hand in hers is returning the pressure and Rachel's smile is being returned, accompanied by the unshed tears shining in hazel eyes.

Quinn falls asleep minutes later, Rachel's hand clutched tightly in hers. It's like she was still awake.

**x**

Quinn is discharged three days later, body bandage-free and lap full of flowers and 'get well soon' cards. Judy rolls her to the end of the hall where Rachel, Santana, and Brittany are waiting.

"Nice wheels, Q,"

"Thanks," She takes an experimental roll forward and sighs. "This'll take some getting used to."

"You and Artie can be like, wheelchair buddies," Brittany says, and excited smile on her face. "And whenever someone makes fun of you, you guys can just run over their toes, or something."

"Or something," Quinn's amused.

"As long as you don't join the A/V club or whatever," Santana says, though lightly, putting her hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"How long will you...you know," Rachel gestures at the wheelchair. She feels childish. She can't even think 'paralyzed' without her eyes getting misty.

Quinn shrugs. "A few weeks. Months, maybe. They're...not really sure,"

Weeks. Months. Quinn. In a wheelchair for an unknown amount of time, because of her.

Hugging someone in a wheelchair is a difficult thing to do. Rachel's lower back screams at her, but her arms are around Quinn's neck for the third time in her life, and when Quinn's hand snakes up and lands on her back, she can't help but breathe out a string of 'i'm sorry, so, so, sorry' into Quinn's ear.

"Don't," Quinn says quietly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Rachel doesn't sleep that night. She can't. It might as well be impossible, because every time she closes her eyes she sees her text of 'WHERE ARE YOU?' burning behind her eyelids. And instead of the beep she usually hears when she gets a new text message, she hears the harsh honking of a horn and a sickening crunch of metal.

It's not guilt. She knows what guilt feels like, and this isn't it.

Not quite.

**x**

A/N: I might continue this, might not. Let me know what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Eh, I had planned on continuing it anyway.

**x**

There's no glee today, Quinn knows that, but she haphazardly rolls herself to the choir room anyway. In the trophy case, almost taunting her, is their Regionals trophy. Glittering in all it's glory.

That could have been the happiest moment of her life. Feeling triumph, winning something for once. Even if all she did was sway in the background, it was worth it to see Rachel's face when they were announced winners.

It was worth that feeling in her gut that screamed accomplishment. Something she was finally able to call hers and that she actually wanted to claim.

"No glee tonight; you know that,"

"Yeah, no, I know, it's just," she lets out a frustrated sigh, running an angry hand through her hair then twisting them together in her lap before she clutches at the wheel of her chair tightly. "I don't know."

There's a long silence before she sighs, "This...sucks," and she's not talking about Regionals anymore.

Artie wheels up next to her, placing a hand over the one gripping her wheel. "It's...it'll be okay, eventually. At least you're not stuck like this forever," he offers her a sideways smile.

She scoffs, pulling her hand from him. "It's the fact that I'm stuck like this at all,"

"Look, I get it - "

"Please,"

"I'm in a wheelchair too, Quinn. At least you get the advantage of wondering when you're going to get out - "

"I was actually on my way to getting somewhere in life," she says with a sad laugh. "And I know what I'm missing. You've been fucked from the start." It's out of her mouth before she can clamp down on it and she immediately hangs her head slightly in shame.

Artie goes rigid in his chair, and she can tell how hard he's squeezing his hands together by the squeaking of his gloves. She turns to apologize but he speaks before she can. "I got it. You're upset. Understandably so, but don't take it out on people who are trying to help you. Or there won't be any left."

**x**

She's tired of the word _sorry_. She became tired of saying it a long time ago. She's become tired of hearing it just recently. She tired of the pitying looks, tired of people offering to carry her books for her, tired of people holding open doors. She's tired of people treating her like she's a fucking cripple, and yeah, she can't 'walk' down the halls, technically, but she's still as capable as any 17 year old high schooler.

So when Mike goes to grab her books off her desk, she quickly snatches them away and pulls them to her chest.

"Sorry?" He says, and she grits her teeth. "I didn't mean - I was going to...help, you know,"

She forces herself to swallow the snark that's on the tip of her tongue and instead just gives him a small smile. "Thank you, Mike. But I'm fine."

She rolls out into the hallway and towards her locker, opening it once she gets there and stuffing her books inside. A small clearing of someone's throat makes her head shoot up to look at Rachel, who's standing with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Hi," she says.

"Hello, Quinn," Rachel chews her bottom lips and watches Quinn exchange her English books for science ones. "How are you feeling,"

"Fine," She snaps out a little too quickly. "I - sorry. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Rachel presses. "Your head isn't hurting, your ribs - ?"

"Rachel," Quinn says, sitting up in her chair, setting her books on her lap and closing her locker. "I'm okay. Really."

For some reason, she doesn't mind when Rachel prods her about her feelings. She doesn't feel completely smothered like she does when other people do it. She knows people 'care' - they wouldn't be doing everything they had been doing otherwise - but Rachel shows she cares in a way that 'isn't' completely obnoxious.

It's ironic, for sure, but comforting at the same time.

**x**

Rachel tries not to blame Finn.

She honestly does, but she can't help but think what might have happened if Finn would have just forgot about their damned slot for one fucking second and stopped being stubborn and just _let her wait for Quinn._

It's the selfish part of her that wonders that, she knows it is. It's the selfish part of her that blames her dim-witted - boyfriend? Fiance? - because she _knows_, deep down she knows, it was her fault.

She could have been patient and not blown up Quinn's phone with a new text message every minute. But she wasn't. And now Quinn was rolling around McKinley in a goddamn _wheelchair_ looking more broken than she did when she had the pink hair and the nose ring.

But it's better to be selfish than to suffocate herself in a mountain of guilt.

...right?

**x**

"About the wedding..." Rachel stands in front of Finn as he sits on her bed, twisting the engagement ring around on her finger. "With - with everything that has transpired lately I...I'm not sure it's such a good idea anymore,"

Finn looks like someone just kicked his puppy. "But - what happened to life's too short? Rachel, the longer we wait - "

"We rushed into this," Rachel says quickly, quelling his argument. "We're not – _I'm_ not ready for this kind of commitment. I never was, I-" She glances down at the ring on her finger. "I have no idea what I was thinking."

"Rach, I 'love' you - "

"And I love you, Finn, but..._this_," she gestures between them. "It isn't working for me right now."

"Are you...breaking up with me?" Finn's brow furrows.

The metal slips from around her finger and she closes it in her fist before she reaches out and puts it in his.

He looks like someone kicked, shot, and _killed_ his puppy as he slumps his giant shoulders, pushes off the bed and leaves without a sound.

**x**

Life's too short. That's one thing she's learned, if anything, from these past few weeks. Because even if she hasn't exactly _shown_ it with the way she's been behaving, she understands it enough to know that she needs to suck up her pride and apologize to one of her closest friends.

She finds Artie at lunch, sitting at a table with the rest of the Glee club.

She gets a chorus of 'Hey's from everyone who notices her approaching and she gives a small smile in return. "Artie? Can we, um, can we talk?"

He just stares at her a moment, then nods, waiting for her to continue.

"I was...I thought maybe we could go somewhere a little more - "

"If you have something to say," he interrupts. "You can say it in front of everyone."

She clears her throat. "Right. I just wanted to apologize for...the other day. You were - you were only trying to help and I - I shouldn't have said the things I did. It was uncalled for," he makes a grunt of agreement. "I'm just - I'm really sorry. To the rest of you, too. I know I haven't been the most _pleasant_ of company lately but...I'm working on it."

She sucks in a breath, then lets it out in a relieved sigh when Artie smiles at her. "It's all good, Quinn,"

"Thanks,"

"You can make up for it even more by letting me whoop your ass in a wheelchair race after school." he grins.

She grins back. "I'll be there,"

**x**

"Helmets? _Really_,"

"Wheelchair racing is an extremely dangerous sport, Quinn," He raps his knuckles on his helmet. "You can never be too safe."

"Right," She chuckles, pulling the light blue helmet onto her head and fastening the strap.

"You're so going down, Fabray," Artie readies himself, leaning slightly forward, his hands poised over his wheels.

"You wish, Abrams,"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "One,"

"Two,"

"'Three!'" they both shout, propelling themselves forward, forearms burning in seconds as they zoom down the empty hall.

**x**

"Okay, okay, _J__esus_, Artie. You won," He grins and pumps his fists in the air in triumph and Quinn pants a few yards behind him, shaking arms reaching up to take off her helmet and letting loose a flurry of sweaty, choppy, helmet hair.

"You good?" He asks, a smirk sliding across his face."

"Just...just give me a minute," Quinn drops her head gear to the floor with a small clatter and leans back in her chair. "How do you..._everyday_..."

He wheels over to her, pulling of his helmet with less shaky - but shaky nonetheless - arms and pats her on the shoulder. "You get used to it."

The hallway is quiet, except for the sound of Quinn's labored breathing, and when she calms down enough to speak she says, "Thank you, really. You didn't have to...do _anything_ after what I said and I just - thank you."

He waves a gloved hand in dismissal. "It's all good, Q," he raises a fist for her to bump and she does, laughing.

"Quinn? What are _you_ doing here?" They both spin around.

"I get that I'm sitting down all the time, and it might be a little hard to see me, but come on, Rachel,"

"Forgive me, Artie. Hello to you, too," Rachel nods at him with a slight smile before she turns back to the blonde. "You two do realize school ended approximately..." she glances down at her wrist. "...twelve and a half minutes ago?"

"Yeah," Quinn and Artie glance at each other. "He was just giving me some...pointers."

"Pointers that require helmets?" Rachel points to the discarded item by the wheel of Quinn's chair.

"Handling a wheelchair can be an extremely dangerous activity, Rachel." Artie supplies.

"Well, I for one don't think Quinn should be participating in anything even remotely _dangerous_ with all she has been through recently."

Quinn gives Artie a death glare that screams 'Oh, _now_ look what you've done.' He clears his throat. "I'm gonna roll away..."

She feels Rachel's eyes on her, probably searching for any nick or scratch she could zero in on, and while Quinn found it slightly heart-warming, the more annoyed part couldn't help but roll her eyes and sigh, "I'm fine, Rachel." Rachel hums in response.

Quinn is struck with a thought. "Why are you here, then?"

"I always practice after school, even on the days we have no Glee. A rising starlet like myself must keep her voice in check at _all_ times."

Quinn lets out a soft, amused snort.

"My future is no laughing matter,"

"No, but what you were about to do to it was,"

What was with her and her sudden inability to keep her mouth shut?

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

Rachel actually lets out a soft laugh and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Not really. It's the truth, after all,"

Quinn can't help but let her eyes wander to Rachel's bare ring finger. "What happened?"

"I realized what a huge mistake I was making," Rachel shakes her head. "And it took you getting in that mess of an accident for me to open my eyes."

"Everything happens for a reason," Quinn shrugs. "Quit beating yourself up over it; it wasn't your fault."

Rachel nods, dropping her head to stare at her flats.

"Do you remember - after Regionals, you - you had asked me if I was...singing to Finn, and Finn _only_,"

Most things before her accident are blurry around the edges, but for some reason the moment Rachel is speaking of sticks out with surprising clarity. "Oh. Yeah."

"I don't - I never quite got what you meant. When you said that, I mean."

She doesn't know what she meant when she said it either. She was high off the Regionals win and being back on the Cheerios (she had to have been high if she decided that she suddenly wanted to support Finn and Rachel's marriage); it all just kind of came out.

"I still don't get quite what I meant either. Maybe I was just looking for some kind of...hope to cling to that would give me a reason to still be against the wedding, but...now that I'm actually thinking about it, that's...really not the case at all."

"Can I - I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Quinn, but - a part of the reason I called off the wedding was because of you. That should have been the first sign it wasn't going to work out; I could barely even walk down the aisle without you there," Rachel chuckled bitterly, recalling the way she had crumpled into a heap at the altar. "I was a sobbing mess. You'd think it was _you_ I was about to marry."

The last sentence strikes a strange chord inside Quinn and again she's left wondering what she actually meant when she sought out Rachel that day after Regionals.

_You'd think it was **you** I was about to marry._

It's like the last piece of the puzzle that she's been searching for, and it was hidden under the lid of the box the whole time. She makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat and Rachel is in front of her in an instant, worried brown eyes boring into her hazel ones.

"Quinn?"

One of Rachel's hands slip into hers and it's like the icing on the cake because a spark just 'shoots' up her arm and to her head and a light bulb switches on.

_You were singing to Finn, and only to Finn...right?_

_You'd think it was **you** I was about to marry._

"Jesus," Quinn finally breathes.

"Quinn?"

And, much like the words that seem to tumble out of her mouth on their own accord, her hand closes around Rachel's, keeping her rooted to the spot so she can reach out and grab the front of Rachel's owl sweater and pull their lips together.

It's lightning and tornadoes and hurricanes and tsunamis crashing over Quinn's senses, and when she feels the tentative force of lips pushing back against hers it's heaven and shooting stars and volcanic eruptions. She swears the whole world _stands_ _still_ because everything is just clicking _right_ into place and _wow_, _this_ is what a kiss is supposed to feel like.

It's over too soon, way too soon, but she allows the softness of lips against hers to pull away and her eyes flutter open to rest on the pink face of Rachel Berry.

"Quinn, what - "

"Me. When I asked you after Regionals. I wanted you to say me. But I - you didn't, and I figured if I couldn't have you I could at least be there to support your wedding, and – wow." Quinn sighs. "I just - I'm sorry if I - "

Soft lips crush hers again, but they pull back a second later with a whisper of, "Don't apologize for that. _Ever_."

"Okay. _Okay_," She tugs on the sweater again and this time, small hands come to tangle in her sweaty, messy hair, but Rachel doesn't seem to care. She tugs lightly on the blonde locks, pulling Quinn's mouth harder against hers.

"_Ahem_,"

Rachel jumps almost five feet into the air and spins around with a terrified squeak. A towering janitor stares at them with a gray eyebrow raised, mop in hand.

"Excuse us, Joseph - " Quinn's not even going to ask how Rachel knows his name. " - we were just - "

"Oh, I know what y'all were doin'. I've been workin' at this school for 25 years; I've seen all kinds of kids in various stages of hooliganin'," He chuckles to himself. "Never seen any of 'em that have the audacity to do it 'n the middle of a hallway. Now I can officially say "I've seen it all,"" he flings mop water at them. "Run along."

The mortified face that Rachel sees when she turns around makes her snort. Quinn's cheeks pinken and she mumbles something.

"Sorry?"

Quinn clears her throat. "I said, um, can I give you a ride to the parking lot?"

Rachel smiles, climbing sideways onto Quinn's lap and slinging both arms around her neck. "I'd like that."

**x**

A/N: And, ah, here we are. It got kind of majorly fluffy at the end. Read and review?


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